Larkspur
by Angela Kip
Summary: Post-Synthesis ending, Samantha Traynor struggles with grief and an old addiction. Contains discussion of self-harm.


The day after she places Commander Shepard's name on the memorial wall, Samantha spends twenty minutes trying to find her Swiss Army knife, then digs it into her forearm and pulls.

_Minor lacerations detected,_ whispers her rewritten genetic code. _Scarring inevitable._

* * *

She sleeps through the night now. Since the 2185 attack on Horizon and especially after the Reapers hit Earth, any sleep she'd gotten had been fitful and ridden with nightmares. Now she's out as soon as her head hits the pillow, sleep going fast and dreamless until she staggers out of bed in the morning feeling no better.

The internal processes mark this as day three. Despite everything that's changed, there hasn't been any access to outside communications since they crashed, making her job useless, along with many other members of the crew. They're all just doing their best to stay out of the way while the _Normandy_ is repaired.

Samantha finds herself looking at the cut on her forearm. It's beginning to scar over already. These new bodies are different. Less fragile. She slides her hand under the pillow and grips the knife hidden there. Three years clean, destroyed. Shepard would be so disappointed.

Not that it matters now. Shepard is gone, was gone the minute Liara told Joker they needed to go. Sam would have hit her for that had she not needed to grip the back of the pilot's chair just to stay upright. Sometimes, she still thinks she should have.

* * *

The first time Shepard saw the old scars was in the shower as she crossed the floor, hooked Samantha's leg over her still-clothed hip. She nuzzled into the specialist's neck, murmuring something about "I knew you had a waiver but _my God_," and Sam stammered, blurting out anything and everything that came to mind, apologizing, _no, it's okay, you don't have to -_ and Shepard pulled her close, shushed her.

"You're beautiful."

Samantha had actually cried after they were through, and despite the tears being a complete turn-off, Shepard had held her.

* * *

On day five, the engineers deliver the news that it could be a month or more before the _Normandy_ is back in the air again. Garrus delivers the news that the dextro rations are gone apart from some vitamins. Samantha isn't sure which is worse. They lost some of the crew when they crash-landed, good people. To lose more, now…

The genetic code hisses about her needing food, too. It recommends she eat and shower, things that she does now only to get it to shut up for once. Sometimes it still doesn't, blinking about emotional health, but there's nothing she can do for that. She wonders if the others get that, too.

* * *

Ashley approached her in the showers three days after she came back to the _Normandy_, both of them in various stages of undress. It seemed to come out of nowhere when the lieutenant-commander gestured to her legs and asked, "How'd that happen?"

"Oh, ah - " Samantha had frozen, her shirt halfway on. "I had an accident when I was little."

She could tell she wasn't believed as the other woman dropped her weight against the wall. "I don't tell a lot of people this, you know. When my sister Lynn was thirteen, she started burning herself. She was really stressed out about everything."

Samantha was silent, tugging her pants up her legs to hide the evidence. Ashley sighed. "Just something to think about." She went to turn away, but the specialist called out.

"Lieutenant-Commander Williams? It's been - several years."

Ash didn't say anything, but a tiny smile flickered across her face. "I'll see you, Specialist."

* * *

_Day seven, time 06:34:07._

The rest of the crew is already hopped up on various kinds of energy drink and having a shouting match. It takes less than fifteen minutes for Samantha to get frustrated enough to slip into the elevator and hit the "1" button. The captain's cabin - she hasn't been up here since the night before Shepard died. One hand grips the knife in her pocket and she crosses the room, curls up in bed and breathes in the smell of the other woman.

The knife eases its way out of her pocket as a leg of her pants rolls up. On its own it draws lines in her skin, sharp and straight. One cut for Shepard. One for the house they won't have. One for the white picket fence that would have been in front of the house. One for the -

"Samantha?"

She looks up and into Ashley's face, and her eyes widen in horror. The lieutenant-commander moves first. She lunges forward, knocking the knife away and holding Sam in a way that effectively restrains her. The specialist loses it, sobbing and trying to form words as she does, which means they all come out garbled. Ash holds her tight, so tight, like it will put all the broken pieces back together.

* * *

_Day ten, time 12:53:04._

Even the dextro vitamins are gone now. The countdown is well on its way for two members of the crew, one of whom can only last about two weeks without food. Garrus knows what his fate will be. Sam sees him leave his rations for Tali and she hates it, hates the way he looks at her only because it's the way she used to look at Shepard. If they were in a similar situation, she knows she'd have left her rations for the commander.

Liara hardly leaves her office now. She says she's hearing things that aren't supposed to be there. Samantha still works at her terminal with Ash, both of them knowing how pointless it is to try and get across messages. Still, it gives them something to do.

"Sam?" Ash says finally. "About the other day…"

Samantha slams her hands down on the keyboard, startling the other woman. Then she turns, meets Ash's eyes. "Yes. You were right."

Ashley inhales deeply. "We need to talk in private." She takes Sam's arm, where that scar is, and brings her into the crew quarters. Without letting go, she says, "After I saw this, I was scared you'd run off to kill yourself."

"I could never."

"You miss her."

What she wants to say is _Doesn't everyone?_ But what comes out instead is, "We were going to have a big house with kids and a dog and a fence and _damn it_."

"You have to be dishonorably discharged."

It hits her like a ton of bricks, and she gapes. "What?"

Ashley covers her eyes with her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You know the regs - and EDI said - "

"You told EDI?" There's a catch in Sam's voice, and she despises it.

"I figured she'd know what to do. We have to have a court-martial, and Shepard can't - but we're not just going to throw you out. You can stay until the hearing, she says…"

Ashley's words rain down around the specialist. They are all meaningless.

* * *

EDI can't keep a secret for the life of her, and within two days Sam finds people are looking at her funny. She feels like she has a big _dishonorable discharge_ sticker on her forehead. Dishonorable discharge and possibility of imprisonment for up to two years - that's the kicker. As if Ashley walking in and seeing her like that wasn't bad enough. She wants to throw up.

Either way, they can't discharge her while she's missing in action. The entire _Normandy_ crew is by now, except for Shepard. There's nothing to be done until the communications are back up.

Liara hasn't come out of her room in days. Samantha brings her a tray of food, knocking twice before the asari lets her in. Her eyes are half-glazed over, and for a moment neither of them knows what to say.

"Can I eat with you?" the specialist finally asks. "If you don't mind?"

"Of course." They go back and sit on Liara's bed, both of them picking at their plates. "I find I am not very hungry since the commander…"

"Neither am I. If it weren't for the feed bothering me, I'd never eat." Looking at Liara, Sam can see she's lost weight. She imagines she has as well. It encourages her to pick up a sandwich and take a bite. If she's going to be discharged, she might as well not look like a complete wreck when she is.

"I have heard you are leaving the military."

"Not by choice," Sam says, keeping her eyes on her food.

"Perhaps it is a good thing," Liara says as though Samantha hasn't spoken. "And at least now I am not the only one who needs to receive a psych consult."

"A psych consult?" Samantha swallows a mouthful. "_You_?"

"Dr. Chakwas said it was the best idea. I have not 'had my head on straight,' as your people say, since Thessia. The feed tells me I am experiencing signs of psychosis."

"At least you aren't facing a discharge," Samantha says bitterly. "Dishonorable, at that."

"No. I'm not."

Samantha looks up. "Liara? When you hear things, what do you hear?"

Liara swallows. "People, most of the time. Sometimes my mother. Sometimes Shepard. She is angry she has died."

"Then tell her to get the hell back here." Sam stands up. Liara grips her wrist, her voice very faint.

"Samantha, please - "

"I can't, Liara," she says. "I'm sorry." And then she flees the room.

* * *

_Day fifteen, time 21:39:06._

They mean what they say about idle hands, but perhaps idle minds are worse. Sometimes she goes up to the captain's cabin and just sits there, quietly observing nothing at all. Sometimes she falls asleep without meaning to. Once she jerks awake to the feeling of movement over her skin and EDI's standing there, trying to pull a blanket over her.

"What are you doing?"

"My sources indicate that this is the appropriate response to someone who has fallen asleep in a chair, Specialist." EDI looks sad somehow. Sam rubs the sleep from her eyes and sits forward in the chair, now very much awake.

"But how do you _know_? I thought you weren't even part of the _Normandy_ anymore."

"I felt it might be necessary to check on you after what happened the last time you departed without warning."

"EDI," she says, and her voice is very quiet. "Do you really have to get me discharged?"

"Yes, Specialist. It would be a crime if I did not." The AI leans on Shepard's desk. "If you are open to speaking about this, I am curious about your motivations."

"I - okay." She leans forward, taking a deep breath. "You knew I had a waiver for the scars?"

"I have access to all crew members' files, Specialist."

"Right."

* * *

The first time was alone in her room when she was eleven, just after her parents told her about the divorce they were getting. She drew a series of shallow red lines from navel to groin, breathing deeply as she watched them spill over.

_We still love you -_

_Dad won't go far -_

_It's not your fault -_

Every voice grew fainter and fainter until her mind was utterly, peacefully blank and she had to fight to force out thoughts. She looked down with a little smile.

"My God."

* * *

"I must apologize for not understanding, Specialist. I was under the impression that pain was a negative experience."

Sam shifts her weight. "There are several kinds of pain, EDI. Sometimes humans develop strange coping mechanisms for the emotional sort."

EDI tilts her head. "Specialist Traynor. Your waiver indicates you are mentally sound and will not continue to participate in these kinds of activities."

"I was cleared for working a desk job in a lab, EDI. I was never supposed to be serving on the front lines."

"In that case, I apologize for recommending that you stay. I thought it to be the best course of action at the time."

Samantha starts to say something but doesn't. If she had never stayed on the _Normandy_, all she would have known was working on the retrofits and a passing glance of an attractive woman. God, in many ways she wishes she had never gotten so close to Shepard. But then she would have missed the ride, everything they had. She spoke about the white picket fence and the kids because she had to believe the commander would come back, but what is there to do now that she didn't? "EDI," she says instead, "I want you to leave now."

"I am concerned that if I leave, you will endanger your well-being."

She rises from her chair, gives EDI a sharp look. "Don't you _dare_ treat me like a child," the specialist almost shouts.

She can see at once that she's hurt the other, but it doesn't matter. She wants to hurt the world for what it did to Shepard. "Very well," EDI says at last, and goes to leave. As soon as the elevator starts moving Samantha grabs the picture frame Shepard keeps facedown and smashes it hard against the desk. The sound of glass breaking, deep and satisfying, echoes around the cabin.

The specialist glances at the picture - it's Liara. Shepard had mentioned before that she and Dr. T'Soni were once lovers, but that it had been years ago. Samantha picks up the picture and rips it in half.

* * *

_Minor lacerations detected. Scarring inevitable._

* * *

Hands on her sleeves jar her awake. They're too warm to be EDI. It's Ashley this time, and Samantha glares when she opens her eyes. The lieutenant-commander looks apologetic.

"Sorry, I was just checking - "

"I haven't cut," Samantha says bluntly.

"But there's blood on the sheets."

Samantha glances down, looking at the stains. Shit. She adjusts her position so that her shirt isn't pushing into the fresh cuts. "It's from four days ago."

Ash's eyes are sad. "Samantha…"

"Don't." Samantha gets up, hands balling into fists. "Don't you _dare_ pity me."

Ash sits down on the edge of the bed, and Samantha glares at her, willing her to say something rude so that Sam can bite her head off for it. But instead she says, "You want to come back to the crew quarters? It's past eleven."

"Not tired," the specialist lies. She's always tired now, even if the code doesn't show it. She gets up clumsily, biting her tongue when the cuts press up against the fabric of her shirt. "I'm going to take a shower." Ashley watches her go.

_Pain sensors flaring._

_Stress level abnormally high._

* * *

They bury Garrus on day twenty. His funeral is small, only those who knew him well. Sitting firmly in a chair, Samantha pretends she can feel Shepard there, rubbing her gently on the shoulder and whispering in her ear.

"_I love you," _Shepard murmurs. _"You're so strong."_

"But I'm not," Samantha whispers.

"_You are strong,"_ Shepard insists, putting a different emphasis on every word. _"You are not _allowed_ to break."_

Samantha gazes at the knife that's made its way into her hand. "There's no way to stop it."

"_Don't you dare," _Shepard hisses. _"I was so proud of you."_

_Lacerations detected. Seek medical attention._

"You left me alone."

* * *

When she opens the door to the med bay, she can hear Liara talking. "- And it's saying, 'So be it.' Then a child, a little boy, who says, 'The cycle continues.' And then I get the messages about psychosis. Do you think there is anything for it?"

"I'm not sure, Dr. T'Soni." Dr. Chakwas is studying the asari closely. "This would be better observed in a - Specialist Traynor." She cuts herself off, looking up. "You're bleeding."

The words fall out of Sam's mouth. "It's - too deep."

Dr. Chakwas crosses the floor, examines the cut. "You're going to need stitches. How did this happen?"

* * *

They informally relieve her of her duties, effective immediately.

* * *

The shorter woman turns and salutes her commanding officer. "Shepard, I've returned."

"_No more knives?"_ Shepard isn't looking to play around.

Sam swallows hard. "No. EDI took it."

"_That's not enough. You're going to dig into the mess's supply, aren't you?"_

"No! I can't very well ask them not to use knives."

Shepard leans forward, grips her by the shoulders. _"I was so - fucking - proud."_ And then she lets go, and Samantha is falling forever. She wakes moments later, drenched in sweat.

* * *

She screams all night now. The first time it happens, Ashley gets up and wraps an arm around her shoulders, then gently guides her down to the med bay where Dr. Chakwas can knock her out. The second time, she gets up alone and bunkers down under the engineering deck.

The dreams remain persistent. They are Shepard getting angry with her. They are Rannoch at the exact moment her safety harness snaps. They are the Reapers hitting Earth. They are Horizon in 2185, the Seeker swarms raining down as the young woman flees for safety. She wakes tangled in her blankets from thrashing, so terrified she's useless.

Only a few of the crew will look her in the eye now. The doctor comes and finds her sometimes, asks how she's doing. Samantha always gives the polite answer, _just fine_, and Chakwas points out why she isn't. She's lost fourteen pounds in less than a month. She has dark circles under her eyes. She's shaking so hard she looks like she's about to fall over. Things the feed tells her anyway. Others are doing worse, she says. She found one of the engineers curled up in the shower crying this morning.

"I expect post-traumatic stress disorder is spreading quickly," the doctor says.

* * *

Some days, she doesn't understand how she's managed to deteriorate so quickly.

* * *

_Day thirty-one, time 08:32:15._

The quarian on board hardly moves from her bed now. Samantha enters the crew quarters hesitantly, shifting from foot to foot. "Tali?"

"Specialist Traynor." Tali's voice is welcoming, a relief to the other woman. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"I've sort of been avoiding everyone," Samantha admits. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors?"

"I heard you were being discharged. Something about mental health?"

"Yes. Something like that." She sucks in her breath. "Anyway, I thought I'd come up and keep you company."

"Thanks." Tali moves to make room, and Sam sits down on the bed. "Everybody's been busy with the ship repairs."

"We were damaged so badly." One of Sam's fingers idly traces patterns on the bedspread. "I offered to help, but they won't allow it."

Tali tilts her head to the side. "Specialist Traynor. What exactly did you do? If you don't mind my asking."

Samantha reaches out her arm and shows the scar. Tali's eyes grow wide under the mask when she sees it. "Keelah," she whispers, and Sam has to bite back her feelings. The quarian looks up. "We don't have to talk about this."

"I'd prefer not to." She grips the other's hand, which is shaking. Quarians can only last about forty days without food - she pushes that out of her mind. "How are you feeling?"

"A little dizzy," the other admits. "The others say we could still make it."

Samantha looks down at the bedspread. "I hope so, Tali."

* * *

_Mild intoxication detected._

She's never particularly liked the taste of alcohol. Still, it would be nice to stop _thinking_ for a little while. The former specialist isn't planning to get blackout drunk, but perhaps enough for a hangover would be good. The wicked headache tomorrow will give her two days off of thinking.

She's tipsy, in a search for more of the commander's favorite whiskey, when she comes across it. The knife that EDI stashed away from her was hidden under the spare mattress in the crew's quarters, within reach of her all this time. What a stupid place to hide it. She glares at the blade.

"I can't believe what you've done to me," she says aloud, and irrationally she's _angry_ with her knife, angry that it's cost her her job and possibly given her a sentence, irrationally she wants to break it in half, and she can't so she's walking, her feet taking her exactly where they want to go. A cold hand catches her on the shoulder.

"Specialist Traynor, that object is not supposed to be in your possession," EDI's voice says, but Samantha just walks faster and the AI follows her, asking her to let it go, and then they're stepping out of the airlock and Samantha takes two steps and hurls that knife as far as she can, knowing the instant it leaves her hand that she's making a mistake.

"Specialist Traynor."

Samantha turns to see EDI's metallic smile.

"I am pleased to see the progress you have made."

Sam closes her eyes. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "If you were really pleased, EDI, you'd get me another bottle of whiskey."

* * *

The comm channels go back up on day thirty-seven. The ship is almost ready to fly again, the others say.

_Perspiration abnormally high. Stress levels elevated._

Liara knocks on the door of the crew quarters unnecessarily before she comes in. She finds what she must be expecting in the form of a lump under the blankets.

"Samantha. Are you all right?"

Sam pushes sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes. "I'm rather nervous." When Liara just waits patiently, she elaborates. "I could spend two years in jail, Liara."

"That is understandable. I am worried about my psych consult as well." She sits on the edge of the bed. "Perhaps our situations are more similar than we originally thought. I must go on trial for what happened to Thessia."

The shorter woman about swallows her own tongue. "Are…are you all right?"

Liara doesn't look at her. "I am likely facing life imprisonment."

"You could plead insanity."

"The asari government does not have such a plea."

"Liara," she whispers, "I'm sorry."

Liara looks almost surprised. "But Samantha, it was only my fault."

* * *

Day thirty-eight, and they bury the quarian. Her funeral is one smaller than Garrus's was. Ashley won't look anyone in the eyes. Nothing can be done but to keep her company.

"We'll be back in the air in five days," Joker promises, as though that will help somehow. "Got cleared of the missing-in-action status. And EDI got us a place to dock..."

They take off on day forty-one and land on day forty-two. At fifteen minutes before their ETA, Sam goes into the crew's quarters to change back into her civvies. She's shaking so hard she can hardly do it, so Ashley helps her. She feels incredibly vulnerable, a child being dressed by a mother.

"No fresh cuts?" Ashley whispers as she helps Sam with her shirt. Speaking at a normal volume will break the moment.

"No. Lots of scars, though."

"You need a belt?"

"Yes." Sam fiddles to hold her pants up as Ashley goes searching for it. She's dropped pounds at a scary rate since they first crash-landed. Ash hands her the belt and she buckles it on, sucking in air as she does so.

"Liara's waiting for you." Ash puts a hand on her shoulder. "You'll be okay, Sam."

Liara is waiting in the back, with Sam about to join her, while the rest are ready to receive a crowd of people welcoming them and celebrating their return. She pushes that down. "I hope you're right."

"I'll come see you as soon as I can."

The former specialist feels suddenly dizzy. "I…I should thank you."

"You don't have to." Ash cups her face. "We better get going. We'll land any minute now."

"Good luck, Ashley," she says. "It's been an honor working with you."

"You, too," the soldier says. As they touch down, Ash looks over at Sam for what will be the last time in a long time. "You ready for this?"

Samantha is white-knuckling the sides of her chair. "As close as I'll ever be."


End file.
